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“I plan to have one of the first in Saint Louis,” Michael boasted. “It will be my dwelling unit on the roof of my high building. The name ‘penthouse'comes from the Latin words pendere, meaning ‘to hang,’ and ad, meaning ‘to.1 It will be a residence much whispered about in the social gatherings of Saint Louis.”
“It sounds very exciting, Michael,” Maria said, relieved to step onto the landing that led down another narrow hallway with doors on each side.
“Over here,” Michael urged, releasing his hold on her. “This room is ours for the few moments we will have with one another.”
Tremulously, Maria waited until Michael had fitted the key into the lock and had opened the door. She waited until he had turned a light on that lighted the room in dim shadows. She then moved on inside, seeing the familiarity of it. It was the same as walking into the room that she had just left behind, except for the lack of the roses that she had found awaiting her arrival when she and Nathan had walked into the room.
“Roses for my new bride,” Nathan had said, then had rushed her right to the bed and had taken her sexually even before she had been able to fully unclothe herself.
She trembled now, thinking about it. But she soon put it from her mind when she heard Michael close the door behind them and then had her in his arms, crushing his lips against hers, making her insides begin a slow melting.
“Maria, I must have you,” Michael said thickly, moving the hood from around her face, then the full cape from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. His lips covered her face in feathery kisses.
“But, Michael. I don't have . .. time. . . .” she murmured. “What. . . if. .. Nathan . . . ?”
Michael quickly withdrew from her and moved across the room, standing with his back to her, staring out the window. “Yes. Nathan,” he mumbled, clasping his hands behind him. He turned on a heel, staring at Maria with his eyes changing colors to deeper blues. “How is it that you have become his wife? How could you marry such a man as Nathan Hawkins? You refused me. Why not him?”
Maria stooped to rescue her cape, then carried it with her and placed it on her lap as she moved onto the softness of a green velveteen chair. “There is much that needs to be said, Michael,” she said, clearing her throat nervously.
Michael pulled a cigar from his inside suit pocket and lit it, moving to sit across from Maria. “Yes. I do believe so,” he said, leaning forward, one foot placed ahead of the other. He so ached for her, but he knew that she was, yes, indeed married. She belonged to another man. Only she could make the choice as to whether or not to move into a bed with a man other than her husband.
Maria's fingers worked with some loose strands of hair, trying to fit them back beneath her comb at the side of her head. “I do not like being married to Nathan Hawkins,” she confessed, blushing. “It is only because of my Papa and Alberto that I have done this ugly deed. Please try to understand, Michael.”
“I don't understand, Maria.. . .”
“Nathan Hawkins singled me out even before I arrived in America,” she said. Her gaze lowered. “It was sort of an agreement between Papa and Nathan Hawkins.”
Michael paled. “Good Lord. Your father made an agreement with Nathan Hawkins for you to wed him when you arrived?”
Maria's eyes shot upward. She gasped softly. “No. Nothing like that,” she said. “The agreement? It was such an innocent gesture on my Papa's part. He had been told by Nathan Hawkins that Alberto and I would get special treatment aboard the ship, after Papa had begged Nathan Hawkins that Alberto and myself not be told that it wasn't Papa who was paying our passage to America. He didn't want us to know that Nathan Hawkins was doing the paying. You see, Papa had his pride to protect.”
Michael rose, his face showing shock. “Then you are . .. of Nathan Hawkins's Italian community, Maria?” he stammered. “You are a part of Hawkins- ville … ?” “Yes, Michael“
He ran his fingers through his hair, murmuring, “God. God.” He slumped down onto the chair once again, leaning heavily against its back. “And the ship? Special privileges? God. I didn't see you get any special privileges aboard that death ship,” Michael grumbled, chewing angrily on the tip of his cigar.
“No. We did not. The only special privileges was the fact that Nathan did agree to let it look as though Papa was the one who had paid the passage. That was the only privilege he granted. And this was only agreed to because Papa had described in such fine detail to Nathan Hawkins my … what… he called … innocent beauty. .. . And Nathan Hawkins decided to have my hand in marriage once I arrived. Don't you see? Nathan had it planned from the very first mention of my name to him from Papa's lips.”
Michael placed his fingertips together in front of him, glowering. “An
d you have been in Hawkinsville all this time? Up to this time of your .. . uh . . . marriage . . . ?”
“Yes, Michael.”
“I didn't know“
“I wish that I had told you while we were on the ship.”
“I should have insisted,” he said. “But all of this that has happened. All of this between Nathan Hawkins and your father? It didn't mean that once you did arrive that you did have to go through with such a mockery of marriage. Why did you go ahead and marry such a man? He's not worth the spit from my mouth. And you know that.”
Maria felt the need to cry. She turned her gaze from Michael, swallowing hard. “Nathan Hawkins said that he would force Papa, Alberto and myself to board the next ship back to Italy if I refused him,” she said sullenly. She wiped a tear away, sobbing softly. “You see? I had no choice. The ship's condition? Don't you remember? My Papa wouldn't live through such a voyage. I know it.”
Michael rose and stamped his cigar out in an ashtray. He went to Maria and pulled her up into his arms. “God, Maria. I should have known. I could see the fear in your eyes when I saw you with Nathan on the stairs. And when you chose to address me by a different last name, I suspected even more. That is why I waited in the lobby. I knew you would seek me out. I would have waited all night, if need be.”
Maria rested her head against Michael's chest, smelling the familiarity of him, his expensive male cologne, the aroma of cigars, and she could feel the haste with which his heart was beating against his chest. “And, Michael,” she murmured, clinging to him. “That is not all. There is so much more you need to know.”
He reached and tilted her chin up with a forefinger, their gazes meeting and holding. “What more is there to tell? What is it, Maria?” he said thickly, being suddenly possessed once again by her beauty .. . her nearness. …
“Your life is in danger, Michael,” she quickly blurted, eyes wide, watching his expression changing to that of disbelief.
